Blindman's Bluff
by GhostWriter25
Summary: A freak accident in engineering jeopardizes Trip's career and dredges up old fears of inadequacy. Meanwhile bringing some of the other crew closer together. **CHAPTER 8 COMPLETE**
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the rights to Star Trek, Enterprise and the regular characters I borrow from time to time. There will be no monetary profit to myself. Only profits to the inner soul.  
  
  
  
"BLINDMAN'S BLUFF"  
  
CHAPTER 1-  
  
It all happened so fast. One minute he was working alongside Crewman Morris and chatting about last Saturday night's movie while they worked on a conduit in engineering. The next thing he knew he was thrown flat on his back and an intense heat engulfed his face.   
  
Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III, chief engineer on the Enterprise NX-01, was writhing on the floor of his department in shear agony. His eyes were burning beyond painful and his face felt raw and void of skin. Though he could neither see nor speak, he could hear the chaos in the room. Crewman Morris was hollering for someone to notify sickbay there was a medical emergency. Crewman Kelley was already on the comm to the bridge informing the captain of what happened.  
  
But that was just it. What the hell did happen? Before Trip could let his mind delve further along that course, a chill covered his body. He felt so cold all of a sudden. The voices and the hum of the warp engines began to grow fainter. Within seconds all was silent.  
  
Doctor Phlox charged into engineering with a medical team, carrying a stretcher, close at his heels. Captain Jonathan Archer rushed in a few seconds later.  
  
Crewmans Morris and Kelley knelt beside the still form of the commander, but jumped up as soon as the medical team and the doctor approached.   
  
"Captain," Morris moved to Archer. "I don't know what to say. He removed his face shield and was adjusting his plasma torch when it just blew up...right in his face." The young man was obviously very shaken.  
  
Archer, preoccupied with the sight of his best friend's body lying still with a face that was badly burnt, could not speak. He rested a hand on Morris' shoulder.  
  
"I--I just couldn't do anything for him..." Morris stammered.  
  
"Crewman Kelley," Archer finally croaked out. "I would appreciate it if you would take Crewman Morris for a walk."  
  
"Yes, sir." Kelley nodded and then moved off with Morris in tow.  
  
Archer heard Phlox and the medical team talking about shock and stablizing Trip's vital signs. But all he could do was gaze down at the injured man and feel just as helpless as Crewman Morris.  
  
"Let's get him to sickbay immediately." Phlox told the team. As they gently lifted Trip onto the stretcher and began to head for the door, Phlox turned to the captain. "I'll do everything I can, Captain."  
  
"How bad is it?" Archer asked.  
  
"He's critical, sir." Phlox answered. "Third degree burns over his face and hands. I'll let you know as soon as there's anything new to tell." He turned and followed the medical team out.  
  
----------  
  
Archer had sought out Crewman Morris and talked to him about the accident. There wasn't much else he could tell his captain that he hadn't already told him in engineering. Commander Tucker's plasma torch just blew up.  
  
"Take it easy, Morris." Archer softly said. "He's still alive and that's what we have to focus on now. It was an accident and there's nothing you could've done to change what happened."  
  
Morris looked sorrowfully up at Archer. He took a deep breath and nodded.   
  
"I better get back to my post, sir." The young crewman said, squaring his shoulders.  
  
"If you're ready." Archer smiled thoughtfully.  
  
"Yes, sir." And with that the crewman was off down the corridor.  
  
Archer turned and headed toward the bridge. He wasn't about to get underfoot in sickbay, even though that's where his heart was at the moment. He would wait until Phlox sent word to him. It was to be the hardest two hours of his life.  
  
----------  
  
The bridge was the usual quiet command center when T'Pol was in command. But it was even more so at the present, with their minds on Commander Tucker and what was going on in sickbay. Captain Archer had relinquished the bridge to T'Pol, who remained at her station. Even though she had her emotions under wraps, she was still quite aware of the anguish the others were feeling. It was...unsettling.  
  
"Sub-commander," Ensign Travis Mayweather addressed. "Are we still maintaining our present course?"  
  
"There have been no instructions given to you otherwise." T'Pol answered.  
  
"Well, no, but..." Travis started. "Never mind. I'm sorry."  
  
T'Pol regarded the young man. "No need to apologize, ensign. You feel we should not be continuing on to the minshara class planet we've been planning on investigating?"   
  
"I just thought that maybe we'd have to head back." The ensign hung his head and turned his attention back to the viewscreen.  
  
"We will have to wait and see." T'Pol replied.  
  
----------  
  
Standing at his window staring out at the stars, Jonathan Archer felt small. Not insignificant, by any means. Just small. He held the lives of every being on this ship in the palm of his hand at any given moment. Except this moment.   
  
Trip's life was compromised by a freak accident. Albeit in the line of duty, but for God sakes it was a damn plasma torch. Not a heroic act to save the ship and all the crew that put him in danger's way countless times before.   
  
He had to pull through. There was no other way this could play out. Trip deserved better. He would be the first to say that he wanted to go out in a blaze of glory with full thrusters. Not like this.  
  
The door signal chirped. Archer sighed not really wanting to be disturbed. But he couldn't ignore his crew. They were feeling pretty low, too.  
  
"Come in." Archer called out.  
  
The door opened and T'Pol stood in the doorway, hands clasped behind her back. She hesitated slightly, then entered. The captain turned around to face her.  
  
"You have neglected your evening meal, Captain." T'Pol said, sounding a bit like a scolding mother.  
  
"So has half the bridge crew." The captain replied. "Did you send them off already?"  
  
"They all prefer to remain at their posts." T'Pol informed him. "That is not in their best interests."  
  
Archer smiled thoughtfully and sank into the chair at his desk. "No, I guess it isn't for their physical health. But mentally it's what they need right now. Can you understand that?"  
  
T'Pol regarded the man and nodded without making a verbal response. The captain's brow furrowed as he cocked his head to the side.  
  
"Are you all right, Sub-commander?"   
  
"The tension on the bridge is..." T'Pol swiveled from side to side. "...encompassing."  
  
"I thought you would simply block it out." The captain replied, softly.  
  
"I have lived amongst humans for over a year now, Captain." T'Pol began. "I am not void of emotions. I only surpress them. The method of supression includes meditation, as you know, that is done nightly before sleeping. That is the routine for normal supression. When tensions around me are high, it is disturbing. I must take extra measures to keep control."  
  
Archer nodded and placed his elbows on his desk. He then rested his forehead in the palms of his hands. He took a much needed deep breath.  
  
"I think I can understand." He finally replied. "I guess I didn't realize. Can I ask you a personal question?"  
  
T'Pol raised her brow and nodded to the captain. He glanced up in time to catch her permissive gesture, then looked back down.   
  
"Is it just the crew's tensions and emotions you're trying to block out that make you uneasy? Or is it also your own in regards to Trip's accident?"  
  
The sub-commander was clearly not expecting this question, as her normally stoic expression changed with a twitch at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at the window for a few seconds and then down at the captain, who was now staring her straight in the eyes.  
  
"The commander is a valued member of this crew and..."  
  
"Cut the formalities, T'Pol." Archer broke in. "Just talk to me."  
  
"Mr. Tucker's accident was unexpected." T'Pol offered. "His recovery is utmost in my thoughts, sir."  
  
That seemed to suffice Jonathan Archer enough. He rose and moved around to stand beside her.  
  
"Would you care to join me in the Captain's Mess? I could try and eat a little..."   
  
"Sickbay to Captain Archer." Phlox's transmitted voice cut in.  
  
"Archer here." The captain didn't hold back his anxiety.  
  
"Commander Tucker is stable. But I need to see you, sir." Phlox replied.  
  
"On my way." Archer quickly headed for the door as T'Pol followed after him.  
  
----------  
  
  
"Come on, Charlie," The dark haired boy coaxed. "Don't tell me you're chicken."  
  
Young Charlie Tucker stared back at the older boy in defiance. He had never let Ron Redan get the best of him in all the years he'd known him. Dang, that was all of his life. Ron was two years older than Charlie and the leader of their group. The neighborhood kids followed Ron's lead. Always.  
  
"I ain't a chicken." Charlie said, the sunlight reflecting in his blue eyes.   
  
"Then go on inside." Ron smirked at him.  
  
Charlie looked around at the faces of the other boys. There was Joe, Marty, Kyle and the twins Brandon and Brendan. They all stared back at him with a mixture of fear and hope. If Charlie wouldn't go into that cave, he could never face his friends again. He'd be labeled a baby and he wouldn't have that. Even though he was the youngest, the guys had always treated him the same. Well, at least most of the time. Except when Ron bullied him like this about doin' somethin' that may be dangerous.  
  
"It's real small, Ron." Charlie told him. "It's not even a real cave. It's more like a rabbit hole."  
  
"It's not as small as all that, Charlie." Ron laughed at him. "It's just a little bigger than you are. So what? It's okay, though. You just tell us you're scared and we'll back off."  
  
Charlie was afraid of the dark. He had been since he could remember and still slept with a nightlight. Geez, he thought. Eleven years old and still sleepin' with a nightlight. The guys would go ballistic if they knew. But the way Ron was lookin' at him made him wonder if he already knew.  
  
"Okay," Charlie said finally. He got down on his hands and knees and stared at the small opening before him. He brushed back an unruly blonde strand of hair that tickled his brow.  
  
"Just remember," Ron told him. "We're right out here if ya need anything."  
  
Charlie took a deep breath and crawled inside the hole.  
  
He was sure it was his heart that was pounding in his ears. He couldn't tell how far he had   
crawled, but he knew he was pretty deep. There was no more light showing behind him, so he knew the cave...hole was growing narrower. He had gone far enough, now all he had to do was back up and he'd be out.   
  
Little Charlie Tucker shuffled back on his hands and knees at a much faster pace than he   
had crawled into the hole. He just kept thinking of the light that would soon welcome him when he reached the opening. It should be any moment now. Suddenly his feet hit something hard. Something solid.  
  
"Knock it off, Ron!" Marty yelled at their ringleader. "He's done it. Let him out."  
  
"It's just a joke, Marty." Ron said, laying on his back and pushing his feet hard against the trash can lid he had blocking the hole.  
  
Charlie backed up again, this time pushing harder in the blackness of the hole. His boot heels hit something metal and the clang echoed in the shaft. Charlie's breathing started to become forced. He could feel the cold dampness of the dirt surrounding him. He started to panic and dug his fingers into the dirt below him. He slowly crawled a few inches forward and then rushed backwards ramming his heels into the metal harder than before. There was a tug on his pant leg and then a slight pain shot through his knee. When his last attempt didn't cause the barrier to fall away, Charlie began to breathe faster and harder.   
  
  
  
Trip could hear the faint sounds of the beeping sickbay monitors. He knew that's what they were, only he didn't know if they were real or just another dream. He tried to open his eyes, but they were sore and the lids were being held down. He unconsciously cleared his parched throat and that's when he started to panic.   
  
Captain Archer stood at the doors to sickbay talking softly to Phlox. It appeared that Trip's hands had taken most of the heat. But what his face had taken was directly in his eyes. It would be anywhere from 24 to 48 hours before they knew the extent of the damage to his sight. It had been a few hours since the doctor had summoned the captain there to discuss Trip's condition and he had stuck around hoping Trip would wake. He was just getting ready to leave when a low moan from the biobed turned into a full blown strangled yell.  
  
"No!" Trip screamed.  
  
Archer and Phlox rushed to either side of Trip's bed. The captain held down the commander by the shoulders as Phlox headed to the counter and retrieved a hypospray.  
  
"Take it easy, Trip." Archer said soothingly. "I'm here and so is the doc."  
  
"I--I can't see." Trip stammered, breathing heavily.  
  
"Your eyes are bandaged, commander." Phlox said as he adjusted the hypospray and injected Trip in the neck. "You had an accident."  
  
Trip's breathing slowly returned to normal and the captain lessened his hold, but left one hand planted on Trip's shoulder.  
  
"The plasma torch." Trip remembered. He lifted one hand up to his face, feeling the fibered gauze that encased his hand brush against his cheek. "My hands..."  
  
"They were both badly burned." Phlox told him. "But you didn't lose any fingers. You're all in tact. Just the skin is missing."  
  
"When are these bandages comin' off my eyes?" Trip asked, anxiously. "So I can see again."  
  
Phlox shared a worried look with Archer, who leaned down close to Trip's ear.   
  
"In a few days, Trip." Archer said. "Doc said he can take them off in a few days."  
  
"And then what?" Trip asked.  
  
"We'll just have to wait and see." Phlox replied.  
  
"Naw," Trip started to shift on the bed, nervously. "We're all gonna wait, but there's a chance I'm not gonna see. Isn't there?"   
  
"Trip," Archer tried to calm his friend. "We don't know yet. Okay? Just don't go thinking the worst..."  
  
"Don't go thinkin' the worst?!" Trip shot back. "Without my hands and my eyes I can't do my job!"   
  
"Perhaps I need to up the dose." Phlox directed to the captain. He adjusted the hypospray and again injected Trip in the neck.   
  
Trip's flared nostrils started to retract and his body stopped jerking with pent up emotions wanting to break free. His head rolled to one side and he was still.  
  
"He'll sleep for awhile." Phlox said.  
  
"You can't keep him doped up for two days, doc." Archer said. "He's going to have to face it."  
  
"In due time, Captain." Phlox assured him. "Let him sleep on it. You can come back tomorrow morning and see him."  
  
Archer half smiled at Phlox. "Are you trying to get rid of me, Doctor?"   
  
"Well," Phlox sighed. "Although I would hardly find it surprising to have you move in here again, Captain. I can honestly say it would be in both of our best interests if you slept in your own quarters."  
  
"Agreed." The captain nodded and wearily exited sickbay.  
  
  
  
"Let him out!" Marty yelled again, grabbing Ron under the knees and flinging his legs to the side.   
  
The other boys pulled the lid away from the hole and grabbed Charlie's legs and pulled him out. They all stood over their friend's still body, face down on the ground.  
  
"Is he dead?" Brendan asked.  
  
Marty turned little Charlie over and his eyes were shut. Marty leaned down and listened to  
Charlie's chest.  
  
"He's breathing." Marty announced.  
  
"The little baby just passed out." Ron said, trying not to show the others he was just as worried as they were.  
  
Charlie started to stir and opened his eyes. He looked around at the other boys.   
  
"What happened?" Charlie asked.  
  
"You hyperventilated, you little baby." Ron said. "But that's okay. You did it. I guess that counts for somethin'. Guess you're not chicken. I gotta get home. See ya guys at school."  
  
Marty helped Charlie sit up and they all watched as Ron headed off through the woods. Charlie's face was scrunched up with anger. Some of it at Ron for what he'd done, but most of it at himself for letting his fear of the dark get the better of him.  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
---------- 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-  
  
It was late, 2330 hours, when Archer finally settled down with Porthos to try and get some sleep. After he had left sickbay, he stopped by and visited with Crewman Morris in the mess to make sure he was doing all right. The young man was still shaken by the memory of the horrible site he had witnessed close up, but he was dealing with it. Lieutenant Hess had kept him busy enough during the rest of his shift so his mind didn't wander much.   
  
Then the captain had gone over the final investigation report with T'Pol about the engineering accident for an hour or so. It was cut and dry. An accident.  
  
Archer lay stretched out on his bed, on top of the sheet, with Porthos nuzzled up against his leg. He stared out into the darkness and shivered slightly. He reached down and pulled the covers up over him causing Porthos to rise and move up to share his master's pillow. Slowly the realization came to him that the chill was not from being cold.   
  
Darkness. Still and lonely. He wondered what Trip must've felt when he realized he couldn't see. Jon hadn't even remembered until just now that Trip had told him once about his fear of the darkness when he was a child. It was a few years ago, in a gym outside of San Francisco, when they were taking turns doing leg lifts and Jon had asked Trip how he'd gotten that scar on his left knee cap.  
  
That bully, Ron something or other, had tried to scare Trip by sealing him inside a hole dug into a hillside. Jon remembered Trip still exhibited some anger with himself for panicking and sliding back to ram the barrier only to rip his brand new jeans at the knee. His one and only pair of pants for school since his parents hadn't been able to afford much that year.  
  
Jon shook his head as he remembered Trip telling him that he didn't even cry when his father had punished him that night. He had told is dad all about the dare and that he'd done it. But that didn't matter to Charles Tucker the Second. His father had cringed when he heard how Charlie had fainted.  
  
Jon drew in a deep breath. No, Trip said he cried himself to sleep only when his father yanked the nightlight out of the wall and left him in the dark that night. He felt his dad's shame at his son's fear had fueled the only real spanking he had ever gotten and not that he'd ruined his new clothes. That hurt Trip more than anything, to think that his father was ashamed of him.  
  
All his life Trip had tried to make his dad proud of him and he had succeeded. But Jon knew that Trip's dad, although a great guy and supportive of his children, was not a very outwardly emotional man. He was a man of very few words and Jon always felt Trip never really believed his dad was proud of him.  
  
"It's going to be okay, Trip." Jon muttered, sleepily. "You may be in the dark, but you'll never be alone." He closed his eyes as Porthos' slumbered breathing lulled him to sleep.  
  
----------  
  
"Breathe in deeply." Phlox's voice instructed.  
  
Trip did what he was told, even though he didn't really think it would help. But the doc said it was either that or he'd have to keep him sedated. So, after a few more deep breaths, Trip had calmed down considerably.   
  
"I'm okay now." Trip mumbled. "It's just hard wakin' up. I don't know if I really am awake, you know?"  
  
"Well, you are, Commander." Phlox assured him. "And you really are remarkable at healing. I've been able to observe you after a very intense alien surgical procedure to remove the Xyrillian baby, near fatal hypothermia to near fatal heat stroke. And now these severe burns which, aside from your pain medication, leaves you lucid and quite a handful."  
  
The sickbay doors opened to admit Captain Archer, who heard the latter part of Phlox's statement.  
  
"He's not giving you a hard time, is he Doc?" Archer smiled.  
  
"Hey, Cap'n." Trip turned his head to the right as he heard Archer move to his side.   
  
"He's a bit agitated. But that's understandable." Phlox said.  
  
"How's he doing otherwise?" The captain asked.  
  
"Stable. I changed the bandages already. His hands will take a great deal of time to heal, but they will heal. I will need to do laser skin graphs and skin replacement at a much later time. We still have to wait at least until tomorrow evening to find out about his eyes." Phlox said as he moved off to tend to his critters' morning meal.  
  
Archer looked down at his best friend, wondering what he was thinking. The only indication of any reaction was the occasional licking or pursing of the lips.   
  
"How's the breakfast in this joint?" Archer asked as he eyed the IV dripping slowly next to the bed.  
  
"Not bad, sir." Trip replied. "But the service has lip."   
  
"I heard that." Phlox called back as he moved into his office.  
  
"He gone?" Trip asked.  
  
"Yes," Archer replied.  
  
Trip blew out a ragged breath. "I'm sorry, Cap'n, that I freaked out yesterday."  
  
"Don't even give it another thought, Trip."   
  
"No, no," Trip insisted. "I really am sorry. I don't want ya to think I'm afraid or anythin'."  
  
"Trip," The captain leaned in closely. "I'd be scared as hell if I were in your place right now. There's nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
Trip shook his head. "No, see, I can handle it. Whatever it is. Just not if you thought I was..." He broke off, biting his lower lip.  
  
"Chicken?" Archer finished. "Trip, you know better than that."  
  
"And the accident..." Trip muttered. "I guess just another screw up on my part."  
  
"No," The captain firmly said. "It was just an accident. Not your fault in any way."  
  
"I took my face shield off, Cap'n." Trip countered. "That was damn stupid. Fiddlin' with the controls without any protection."  
  
"Come on," Archer consoled. "I've done it, too. Trip those damn shields are only good for deflecting the bright light. Not for trying to see to adjust the damn torch."  
  
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed entered sickbay now and stopped just inside the door. He was taken aback by the bandages that covered Trip's eyes and hands. Archer motioned the lieutenant closer and he moved to the foot of the bed.  
  
"Malcolm's here." Jon told Trip.  
  
"Hi," Trip managed.  
  
"I'm surprised to see you alert." Malcolm admitted. "I came to see how you were." Malcolm then mouthed out that Hoshi reached Trip's parents.  
  
"Been better." Trip admitted. "What else, Malcolm?"  
  
"Excuse me?" Malcolm asked.  
  
"I heard your mouth clicking." Trip told him. "What don'tcha want me to know?"  
  
"Hoshi's reached your parents, Trip." Archer told him.  
  
"No!" Trip blurted out. "No, don't tell my father, sir. Please?"  
  
Trip began to fidget animatedly, trying to sit up. The captain grabbed him by the shoulders to keep him still.  
  
"Trip, calm down." Archer told him. "You'll pull your IV out."  
  
"But you can't tell him, yet." Trip pressed. "Not until we know somethin' tomorrow."  
  
Phlox came out of his office upon hearing the raised voices and moved to his ever handy hypospray.   
  
"Okay, I promise I won't contact them until we know something more." The captain said.   
  
Malcolm watched as Phlox injected Trip and then retreated back into his office. Archer continued to hold onto Trip, who by that time had rested his head in the crook of the captain's arm. Trip had stopped moving about, but Archer still held on. Malcolm looked closer at Trip.  
  
"Sir," Malcolm addressed Archer. The captain looked up at him and Malcolm pointed to Trip. "He's asleep."  
  
"How do you know?" Archer asked.  
  
"Well," Malcolm tilted his head to the side. "Unless the commander's prone to drooling while he's awake."  
  
Jon looked down now and saw, indeed, a small amount of spittle linked from the corner of Trip's mouth to his uniform. He placed Trip back on the bed and reached for a tissue, gently wiping Trip's face.  
  
"Thanks." The captain said, wiping up his uniform.   
  
"I better get back to the bridge, sir." Malcolm said, turning to leave.  
  
"Lieutenant," Archer stopped him. "Trip's father is a good man."  
  
"Yes, sir." Malcolm replied.  
  
"No," Archer continued. "Malcolm, listen to me. His dad is not a very demonstrative person. He's proud of every accomplishment Trip's made. Even though he appeared at every graduation, every ceremony, Trip's had a difficult time really believing his dad's pride."   
  
"At least his father showed up for those things." Malcolm said, thoughtfully. "But I understand, sir."  
  
Archer regarded his armory officer with understanding. "Malcolm, I know it's hard for you to get close to people. But, I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk, about anything..."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Malcolm nodded. "May I go now?"  
  
Archer nodded and watched the lieutenant leave. He turned his attention back to Trip and shook his head. He wondered just how much of Trip's fear was rooted in his childhood fear of the dark, or his fear of being a disappointment to his father. As he pulled the sheet up a little closer around Trip's chin, the doctor approached slowly.  
  
"Captain," Phlox said in a hushed voice. "I am not one to give false hope. I am a physician. I need to give the facts. So, I will. The most recent scans I have taken show that Mr. Tucker's eyes are healing. That the degradation is not as extensive as I first thought."  
  
"So, he'll be able to see." Archer remarked, hopefully.  
  
"I believe so." Phlox said. "But as to what amount of clarity is unknown still."  
  
Archer watched the doctor and realized there was more this man was not telling him.  
  
"What is it?" Archer asked.  
  
"A patient's frame of mind is just as important as the medical care they are given to recovery, Captain." Phlox finally said. "What fears does this man hide?"  
  
"Well," Archer stammered somewhat. "I don't know that it really would hinder his recovery..."  
  
"Let me be the judge of that." Phlox said, gently.  
  
"He used to be afraid of the dark. When he was little boy." Archer told the doctor. "Something happened that he got into trouble for and his father got angry. Told him he was too big to be sleeping with a nightlight and just took it away one night. Trip wasn't so much afraid of the dark that night, but afraid of his father's anger at his fear."  
  
"I see." Phlox sighed. "A fear that he carries over into his adulthood from what I overheard of his outburst."  
  
"I believe so." The captain nodded.  
  
"Then," Phlox scrunched up his face in thought. "I know I don't have to ask this, but you will be here tomorrow evening when the bandages come off?"  
  
"Doc," Archer sighed. "You couldn't keep me out."  
  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3-  
  
"Doc?"  
  
"I'm right here."   
  
Trip heard some clanking off in the direction Phlox's voice came from.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"1324." Phlox replied. "You had a good four hours more of sleep."  
  
"Where's the Cap'n?"  
  
"I imagine on the bridge." Phlox moved to Tucker's bedside and watched as his patient wiped a bead of sweat from his upper lip with his IV free arm.  
  
"Whatcha got the temperature set at, Doc? Bake or broil?" Trip asked.  
  
Phlox punched some buttons on the monitor and reviewed the information on the screen. He looked back down at the commander and then placed the palm of his hand on Trip's forehead.  
  
"You're running a slight fever." Phlox moved to prepare a hypospray with a fever reducer.   
  
"My mama used to do that." Trip said. "With all this equipment you gotta resort to the ole fashioned way? Hey, I thought Denobulans didn't like too much touchin'. Come to think of it, why'd you become a doctor? Ya gotta look in and up all kinds a places. And touch...things."  
  
"It's my new bedside manner geared for humans." Phlox said as he returned and injected Trip in the upper arm.  
  
"I'll keep my mouth shut, I promise!" Trip protested. "Don't knock me out again, please?"  
  
"It's just a salicylate, Commander." Phlox told him.   
  
"A sali-what?" Trip asked.  
  
"Aspirin." Phlox clarified.  
  
"Ya shot me with aspirin?" Trip asked.   
  
"You can't take anything by mouth yet." Phlox reminded him. "Now, how do you feel?"  
  
"Still warm." Trip told him.  
  
Phlox reviewed the monitors. "A little lower than it was. That's good."  
  
The sickbay doors opened and Reed entered a bit slowly.  
  
"May I help you, Lieutenant Reed?" Phlox asked.  
  
"Hiya, Malcolm." Trip called out.   
  
"I just came to see how the commander was doing." Malcolm said.  
  
"He's got a bit of a fever." Phlox cautioned. "So, don't wear him out." With that he left the two alone.  
  
"You in a lot of pain?" Malcolm asked.  
  
"Not really." Trip shrugged. "Doc's real free with those pain and knock out weapons he calls hyposprays."  
  
Malcolm laughed. "Good to see your humor hasn't waned."  
  
Now it was Trip's turn to chuckle and then there was a long, awkward, silence.  
  
"Malcolm?" Trip finally said.  
  
"What?"   
  
"I don't wantcha ta think that I hate my dad or anythin'."  
  
"It's none of my business." Malcolm quickly said.  
  
"Well, you were here and all." Trip explained. "It's just that he's got these standards by which he judges a man to be a man. And well, helpless and weak just aren't in there."  
  
"You're neither." Malcolm replied.  
  
"Well, maybe not before this friggin' accident." Trip said.  
  
"I believe it's called a 'freak' accident." Malcolm corrected, prompting a genuine laugh from Trip now.  
  
"Okay, okay." Trip relented. "You win. No more sap."  
  
"It's just temporary anyway." Malcolm told him.  
  
"Sure." Trip didn't sound all that convinced.  
  
Malcolm moved closer as he noticed Trip's face becoming flushed and the perspiration more apparent.  
  
"You feel all right?" Reed asked, placing the back of his hand on Trip's forehead.  
  
"Not really." Trip inhaled deeply.  
  
"Doctor." Malcolm called out. "Could you come in here, please?"  
  
Phlox entered and moved to the bedside, immediately checking the monitor. He shot a look toward Reed and motioned to the comm panel. Reed, understanding, moved quickly to it. Phlox returned to inject Trip again.  
  
"Let's see if we can't get this temperature down some, hm?" Phlox then grabbed a hand scanner and began to run them over Trip's hands.   
  
"Where's Malcolm?" Trip asked, his speech becoming forced and lazy.  
  
"Right here." Malcolm answered as he made his way back, nodding to the doctor.  
  
"You called the cap'n didn't ya?" Trip asked.  
  
"There's no getting anything by you, is there?" Reed asked.  
  
"What's wrong, doc?" Trip said, licking his lips. "Did ya dope me up again?"  
  
Phlox shook his head 'no' to Reed. "Well, you need your rest anyway." Phlox lied to Trip.  
  
"Yeah...I feel so tired...and it's so hot in here..." Trip's head lolled to the side.  
  
Phlox continued to tend to Trip, while Malcolm had retreated to toward the doors. By the time Captain Archer flew into sickbay, out of breath, Phlox was finishing changing Trip's IV.   
  
"What's wrong?" The captain asked.  
  
"He's feverish, Captain." Phlox said. "Running forty degrees and rising. Infection has set in in his left hand."  
  
"What can you do?" Archer asked.  
  
"Antibiotics. Which I have changed drugs twice already." Phlox told him. "We can only hope this one will be the right one."  
  
In a very slow, calculated speech pattern Archer asked, "And if it's not?"  
  
"I've done all I can, sir." Phlox was very upset. "I used a topical antimicrobial again when I changed the bandages this morning. I removed the necrotic tissue immediately after getting him in here yesterday morning..."  
  
"All right," Archer said, harsher than he meant to. "I know you're doing your best. I was so preoccupied with his eyesight, I didn't even think..."   
  
"It's always a possibility with burns like these." Phlox shook his head. "I must say I was preoccupied as well, sir."  
  
Archer wanted so much to reach out and touch Trip, but he fought back the urge. "Keep me posted."  
  
"Of course, Captain." Phlox nodded, looking down at his very ill charge.  
  
Archer turned to leave and stopped short as he saw Malcolm leaning up against the counter looking equally as upset as Phlox. The captain walked over and placed his hand on the lieutenant's shoulder.  
  
Malcolm looked up at his captain, the man who had fought his hardest to save his armory officer's life in that Romulan minefield. Just as hard as if it had been Trip, the captain's longtime best friend. But now there was no fight. No enemy to outwit, no bomb to defuse. The captain was just as helpless and lost as the rest of them. Archer's high rank meant nothing in this room, at this moment. That's when it finally hit Malcolm Reed; the difference between acquaintances and friends. He was sure the pain he was sharing with his captain at this moment was every bit that difference.   
  
Phlox watched as both men quietly left sickbay, the captain's arm across the lieutenant's shoulder. As the doors closed behind them Phlox thought he saw Mr. Reed lean oh so slightly, towards Captain Archer.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
---------- 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you for your encouraging reviews. I cherish them all. As for the medical terminology and/or diagnosis, they are strictly from a layman. I am no physician as you can tell. So, let's just keep this all in our fiction perspectives. Hope you all still enjoy!  
  
  
Chapter 4-  
  
Ensign Hoshi Sato sat hunched over at her station. She pressed the buttons repeatedly on the UT trying to decipher the transmission from the M-class planet they were only two days away from reaching.  
  
She knew it was some sort of instruction, but was not certain exactly what for. For all she knew they could be instructions to turn themselves around and go back where they came from. Hoshi slammed the palm of her hand on the console, harder than she had planned. But she was frustrated and also worried. Worried about Commander Tucker.   
  
"Ensign Sato," T'Pol's voice startled her. "Perhaps you should take your meal break. You are overdue."  
  
"I'm sorry, sub-commander." Hoshi said. "I'll be quieter..."  
  
"That is not the issue." T'Pol insisted. "Your eating dinner is."  
  
Hoshi reluctantly nodded and rose. She turned to head for the lift when T'Pol held up her hand.  
  
"Ensign Mayweather," T'Pol addressed the helmsman. "You may accompany Ensign Sato."  
  
Travis Mayweather looked over at the sub-commander and was about to speak when her eyebrow arched. He nodded in submission, knowing full well it was not up for debate.   
  
"Yes, sub-commander." Mayweather said as he followed Hoshi to the lift.  
  
The replacement for Travis slipped into his seat, but T'Pol moved and sat in Hoshi's place. She reviewed the information on the screen, but decided she could not expedite a positive result in translating the alien communication. As she was about to rise, Captain Archer exited his ready room and sat in his command chair. Lieutenant Reed shifted in his seat, but made no attempt to speak.  
  
"Is there any word from the doctor?" T'Pol asked.  
  
Archer shook his head, but stared at the viewscreen. T'Pol returned to her station and took a close look at Mr. Reed and Archer. Both of them were tense, apparent by the rigid posture of the captain and flickering jaw muscles of the lieutenant. There was nothing she could say or do that would change their mood. The tension was weighing on her and, although she would never abandon her captain in a time of need, she knew she had to distance herself.  
  
"Permission to take my dinner break, Captain?" T'Pol asked.  
  
"Oh," Archer said with surprise. "Of course. I didn't even realize what time it was."  
  
T'Pol nodded and exited the bridge. Archer watched her go, then turned to Reed. The armory officer just shook his head no. He was not about to go anywhere and leave the captain alone. That is, without any senior staff.  
  
----------  
  
  
  
  
"Sir, it's only for the weekend. Friday and Saturday night." The mop-top blond haired teenager stood before his father who was seated at the kitchen table.  
  
"I said no." The older man replied firmly, never looking up from his dinner.  
  
"But, all the guys' are goin'." The boy's tone turned to a whine.  
  
His father slammed down his fork and glared up at his son. His mother, cleaning up the dishes, wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned to face the two.  
  
"Why do you always have to argue?" Charles Tucker the Second asked. "I work hard all day, come home late to hopefully eat my dinner in peace..."  
  
"I--I'm sorry." Charlie "Trip" Tucker said, his eyes downcast.  
  
"No," Mr. Tucker said. "I don't really think you are. You have no idea what a hard day's work is like. Providin' for a family. All you ever do is tinker with your machines and hang out with those mechanic hoodlums you call friends."  
  
"They ain't hoodlums!" Trip raised his voice in anger. "What do you know? You never even said more than two words to any of 'em. Usually it's just, 'go home'."  
  
"You watch your mouth, boy." Mr. Tucker rose from his chair. He pointed his finger firmly at his son. "I said no. You aren't goin' on that camp out."  
  
"But why?!" Trip pressed. "You never told me why?"  
  
"Charles," Mrs. Tucker softly said to her husband.   
  
"Keep out of this." Mr. Tucker told her. "Trip, you want to know why? I'll tell you why. Because I don't like that crowd you hang out with. You should be concentrating on what you're going to do when you get out of high school. Hell, you don't even have a plan yet."  
  
"I do." Trip said softly. He looked over at his mother, who just nodded. "I'm goin' to go to college to get my degree... in engineerin'."  
  
"And do what?" Mr. Tucker asked.  
  
"I--I wanna join Starfleet someday." Trip answered.  
  
Mr. Tucker stared silently at his son. He slowly sank back in to his chair and sighed heavily.  
  
"That'll be expensive." His father said in a low voice. "Your college fund won't even cover a full year at the university you'd have to go to."  
  
"I plan on workin' my way through." Trip told his dad.  
  
Uneasy, Mr. Tucker shifted his gaze toward his wife, but addressed his son. "You've thought this out, have you?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Trip answered.   
  
There was a long pause as Trip shot a nervous look to his mother. She smiled reassuringly at her boy. Charles Tucker the Second picked up his fork and pushed his food around on the plate.   
  
"Be home before supper on Sunday." The father quietly instructed and then went back to his dinner.  
  
Trip looked at his mother, who opened her arms. He hugged his mom tightly, knowing full well she knew he wished he could hug his father like that.  
  
  
  
  
----------  
  
Phlox studied the scans of Trip's eyes. He would've taken the bandages off tomorrow, but with Trip battling this infection and feverish it appeared that wouldn't happen. He looked down at the sleeping man and was glad he was only sleeping.  
  
The commander's temperature was hovering around forty degrees and the doctor could do no more than wait and see. He felt certain that one of the antibiotics would begin to kill the infection in Tucker's hand but as to which one and when he couldn't determine. That was what worried him the most.   
  
Captain Archer had entered sickbay, unnoticed by the doctor. He stood at the foot of Trip's bed and stared at his friend. Phlox, startled, turned to face the captain.  
  
"Captain," Phlox addressed. "I didn't hear you come in."  
  
"How is he?" Archer asked.  
  
"The same," Phlox told him. "But at least the fever hasn't risen. He's sleeping."  
  
"The infection's still not responding." The captain stated, knowingly.  
  
"Not yet. But I have faith that it will. Just when is the certain unknown."  
  
"Hoshi's still trying to decipher that communication from the planet." Archer told the doctor. "I still plan on going ahead with the mission."  
  
"Understandably, sir." Phlox nodded. "Mr. Tucker would want that."  
  
"We'll be there in a little over a day. I was hoping Trip would be able to see it..." Archer's voice trailed off and he turned away, moving toward the door and then stopped. "What if his fever doesn't break, Doc?"  
  
"Sustained at this temperature or another degree higher; he could lapse into a coma." Phlox quietly replied.   
  
"Brain damage?" Archer fired back.  
  
"Captain, I don't think we should go speculating..."  
  
"Yes or no?" Archer demanded.  
  
"A possibility, yes. But..."  
  
Phlox had no chance to finish. Jonathan Archer slammed his palm against the door panel and exited without a word.  
  
----------  
  
Hoshi Sato's eyes widened with realization as she completed the now translated communication. She jumped up from her chair and wheeled around toward Sub-commander T'Pol.  
  
"Permission to leave the bridge?" Hoshi asked.  
  
T'Pol's ever present stoic expression never wavered. "You were off duty approximately thirty minutes ago, Ensign. Permission is not necessary."  
  
"Oh, right." Hoshi responded. "I have the translation. I'd like to let Captain Archer know."  
  
"He's retired for the evening." T'Pol informed her.  
  
"But I know he'd want to hear this." Hoshi pressed. "We could all use some good news."  
  
"Then I suggest you contact him via the comm first." T'Pol suggested.  
  
"Thank you." Hoshi rushed to the turbolift.   
  
----------  
  
Archer sat at his desk, going over reports, when his door signal chirped. He got up and pressed the button. Hoshi Sato stood, almost smiling, in the doorway. Archer frowned slightly.  
  
"Hoshi," The captain moved aside to let her in.  
  
Porthos bounded up to the ensign and she bent down to pet him. "Hey there, Porthos."  
  
"He's been needing a lot of loving lately. I think he senses what's going on." Archer told her.  
  
"Well, Captain," Hoshi began as she rose to her full height. "I think this translation will bring all our hopes up."  
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
Hoshi moved to the captain's computer and stood next to it.   
  
"Do you mind?" Hoshi asked.  
  
The captain cleared the screen and Hoshi sat down punching the buttons and then turned to him.  
  
"Hold on to your hat, Captain. Listen to this." She said.  
  
The sputter came across the speaker of the terminal and then: "Greetings. We detected your vessel on our long range scanners. We are the Eklosians; scientific researchers in biological organisms and diseases. Alien visitors are welcomed for the added knowledge they give us. We are sending you the geographical location of our colony and instruct you to contact us immediately upon reaching orbit. We believe you must expedite your arrival."  
  
Hoshi was smiling up at the captain, who just stared at the screen.  
  
"Kinda eerie, huh?" Hoshi asked expectantly.   
  
"You think they could help Phlox to help Trip?" Archer asked.  
  
"What have we got to lose, sir?"   
  
Archer rushed to his comm and hit the button. "Archer to the bridge."  
  
"Yes, Captain." T'Pol's voice came across the comm.  
  
"Increase speed to get us to that planet by tomorrow 1200 hours at the latest. Archer out."  
He turned to Hoshi who was smiling at him. "Thanks, Hoshi. I owe you...another one."  
  
----------  
  
By the time the Enterprise was in orbit around the planet Eklo, it was 1040 hours. Archer had spent time in sickbay talking to Trip while Phlox did whatever he does in the mornings.  
  
"So, we'll see what these people are about. And maybe they have some hot toddy's to help you get well." Jon told Trip.  
  
Trip was slowly rolling his head from side to side, so he was not asleep. But since he was still maintaining his high fever, he was not really aware. "Sorry..." Trip muttered. "I'm so much trouble."  
  
"You're not trouble, Trip." Jon replied. "You're a pain in the ass most times, but not real trouble."  
  
"Dad?" Trip called out. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to make you 'shamed of me."  
  
"Shh..." Jon leaned in now and wiped the perspiration from Trip's forehead. "Take it easy."  
  
"I know...ya think I'm wastin' my time...think I can't do it..." Trip kept going. "I'll show ya."  
  
Phlox walked up and stood on the other side of Trip's bed, watching the captain gently wipe Trip's forehead. The commander ceased movement and he was undeniably asleep once again.  
  
"Have you contacted his parents?" Phlox asked.   
  
"I haven't contacted anyone yet." Archer admitted. "Not even Admiral Forrest. I think I just want to wait. All around, you know?"  
  
"His father is a great source of heartache for him, isn't he?" Phlox asked.  
  
"I thought he'd gotten over most of it." Archer shrugged his shoulders, straightening the sheet across Trip's chest. "His dad was never really gung-ho about Trip wanting to get into Starfleet. I think Trip wasn't sure if he did it more to show his dad he could do it, than wanting it for himself."  
  
"Either way, it's what he was destined to do. He is an excellent engineer and he seems quite content with being here."   
  
"He is. And I don't want anything to change that." Jonathan Archer looked down at Trip Tucker and patted his shoulder. "I'll be back before you know it, buddy. Doc, if these people can help Trip, I'll contact you if we need anything."  
  
Phlox nodded. "I hope they can. I'm down to the last two antibiotics left to try. If they don't work..."  
  
"Bridge to Captain Archer." Hoshi's comm voice broke in.  
  
"Archer here."   
  
"They contacted us, sir." Hoshi sounded out of breath. "They scanned our ship and they know virtually every thing about us. Including Trip's condition. They want to speak with you now."  
  
"I'm on my way." Archer said as he ran out the door.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
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	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5-  
  
C'Taan, the chief researcher and physician of the Eklosian facility, spoke quickly and clinically to Archer. These people were not humanoid. They appeared more like giant bipedal insects with long snouts and thin crab like claws for hands.   
  
Although the captain had opted to take the transmission in his ready room, he had T'Pol with him and a link to Phlox in sickbay.  
  
"I appreciate that you want to help us, but you can understand my caution." Archer told the alien.  
  
"Yes," C'Taan concurred. "But our scans show your officer is in grave danger and must be brought to our hospital immediately if we are to gain mutual benefit."  
  
Archer looked up at T'Pol with a frown of uncertainty. These Eklosians appeared to be clinical to the point of being cold. Could their drive for research put Trip in further danger?  
  
"Doctor?" Archer finally said.  
  
"I see no alternatives, Captain." Phlox's comm voice piped up. "C'Taan is offering possibilities to treatments I have no knowledge of. We are out of options."  
  
"But what about those two other antibiotics?" The captain asked.  
  
"I administered them twenty minutes ago, sir." Phlox replied. "There has been no change."  
  
Archer sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. T'Pol, sensing the captain's indecisiveness, slid in toward the terminal.  
  
"What about the commander's eyesight?" T'Pol asked.  
  
"We are still reviewing the data we gathered in our scans. We need to study further, but on the patient himself."  
  
"I want our ship's physician present at all times." Archer finally decided.  
  
"Agreed." C'Taan didn't hesitate at all. "When can we expect you?"  
  
"Soon as Doctor Phlox can get Commander Tucker ready for transport." The captain said.  
  
"We will prepare for your arrival." C'Taan nodded and the screen went blank.  
  
"I'll get to it, sir." Phlox said and the comm silenced.   
  
The captain rose from his seat and slowly walked to the window. He stared out at the planet before him. "You know I was beginning to regret blowing up that repair station. I couldn't help but feel it could've helped Trip now. But, I guess there are more little medical miracle workers out here. Just hope they all don't have nasty little secrets."  
  
"Your aprehensiveness is to be expected, Captain." T'Pol offered. "Do not confuse it with foreboding."  
  
"They seem on the up and up. But I can't help but feel I'm..." Archer was struggling. He wasn't sure he wanted to reveal certain aspects of his feelings toward Trip to T'Pol. Yet, they are the three senior officers and they had shared some intimate moments as a threesome as well as between each set of pairs.  
  
"You're not abandoning him." T'Pol's voice had softened. She had used this manner of speaking with the captain in the past. More recently when she countered to his apology for the 'friction' between them when Porthos had been near death. She was beginning to realize the fondness and affection humans have toward their pets and each other were outwardly similar. Yet, the captain's actions now made her realize that inwardly there were distinct differences in those feelings.  
  
Archer lowered his head and closed his eyes, balling the hand leaning on the ledge into a fist. Damn, she was good.   
  
"For someone who supresses their emotions," Archer began. "I still find it surprises me when you sink your teeth into analyzing mine."  
  
"You have done the next best thing, Captain." T'Pol continued. "You have made sure that Doctor Phlox remains with him. He will not be alone."  
  
"I know," The captain said turning to face her. "Could you assemble the away team? I'll be in sickbay."  
  
"Ensigns Sato and Mayweather will meet the doctor, and I'm sure yourself, in lauchbay two."  
  
Archer nodded and T'Pol reached the door before she was stopped.  
  
"Sub-commander," Archer called back. "Do you believe I made the right decision?"  
  
T'Pol knew Jonathan Archer needed no one to reinforce his decisions. But she believed he wanted, at this time, to know what she thought about this one. "Logically, it was the only decision to make."   
  
----------  
  
The emergency room at the Eklosian hospital was every bit as sterile and cold as Archer believed these people were. The stark white walls, floors and ceiling mixed with the splatters of metal and steel made him shiver. He sat, with Hoshi and Travis, in the observation lounge. Looking through the glass at the alien team below working on his best friend, Archer wondered how much of what he was feeling was helplessness or hopelessness.  
  
Trip was laying on a table, his head and shoulders elevated slightly. The bandages over his eyes had been removed and for the first time those in the lounge could see the burns across his closed eyes. His arms were upturned and spread out to the sides, resting in metal slots and there were tubes in his nose and in both arms. He was wearing only white briefs that were, apparently, standard Eklosian hospital issue. Archer let a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he pictured the hospital personnels' shock at the bright blue regulation Starfleet briefs Trip had on when they prepped him.  
  
Doctor Phlox hovered behind C'Taan as he worked with his alien instruments to take living, healthy tissue from Tucker's thighs to replace the skin on the commander's hands. He glanced up at the captain sitting behind the glass and nodded to him. He felt he needed to reassure his captain that he was confident these people were more than capable of treating his best friend.  
  
"It's going in..." Travis was whispering to Hoshi.   
  
"No," Hoshi disagreed, equally as hushed. "I think it's being flushed out."  
  
Archer broke from his thoughts and turned to the two younger people. "What are you two talking about?"  
  
"Sir," Hoshi sat up straight. "We were just wondering what the tubes in Trip's arms were doing. Travis thinks it's drugs going in. I think they may be flushing out the infection."  
  
"Oh," Archer nodded. "Yeah, I was wondering the same thing. I think they're flushing it out, too."  
  
Hoshi smirked back at Travis who just rolled his eyes.  
  
Archer watched as Phlox circled the table and came to a halt behind Trip's head. The ship's doctor leaned over and looked at the commander's face. He looked so peaceful sleeping, Archer thought. Trip was unaware of being the center of attention for so many. Another alien physician was at Phlox's side and the two switched positions. The physician began to use his instruments to treat the burns around Trip's eyes.  
  
"This is fascinating." Hoshi marveled out loud.   
  
"So far, all I see is they're making him look as if the accident never happened." The captain stated. "But it's what's going on inside that I want to know about. The infection, his eyesight..." His voice trailed off and he inhaled deeply, blowing out the air in puffed cheeks.  
  
"Sir," Travis said. "Far be it from me to suggest you could be anywhere but right here. But they said it could be hours and we're going on two and a half now. Would you like to take a walk?"  
  
Archer turned to Travis and smiled at the young ensign. He was right. There wasn't anywhere else Jonathan Archer could be right at this moment. But perhaps these two needed a break.  
  
"Thanks, but I'll pass." Archer said. "Why don't you take Hoshi? I think she could use a walk."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Hoshi smiled and she and Travis quietly left the lounge.  
  
Archer turned his attention back to the emergency room. He watched the team work, he watched Phlox watching the team work. He watched Trip's face, still and at rest. He wondered when he would see those bright blue eyes twinkle again at him after some smart aleck remark. Then he felt a lump in his throat and a twitch of his lower lip as he wondered not when...but if.  
  
--  
  
"Captain, wake up."   
  
Archer opened his eyes and saw Hoshi and Travis standing over him. He bolted upright in his seat and realized he had dozed off. He quickly shot a look down at the emergency room and the lights were dim and it was empty.  
  
"What happened?!" Archer jumped to his feet.  
  
"It's okay, sir." Travis placed an arm on his captain's shoulder. "They finished and moved Commander Tucker to a private room."  
  
"Dr. Phlox is with him." Hoshi added. "We were coming back from our walk and saw the doctor in the hall. He told us you had fallen asleep."  
  
"Take me to him." Archer ordered.  
  
----------  
  
The captain, Hoshi and Travis turned a corner and saw Dr. Phlox talking with C'Taan at the end of the hall.  
  
"Captain," Phlox addressed. "The procedures went well."  
  
"Your man is quite a fighter." C'Taan praised. "He will have no scars and should gain his strength within five or six days."  
  
"What about his sight?" Archer asked eagerly.  
  
"They healed all of the damage to his eyes, Captain." Phlox remarked in admiration.  
  
"Can I see him?" Archer asked.  
  
"Yes," C'Taan said, heading toward a door. "Follow me. He should regain consciousness within the next thirty minutes."  
  
"That fast?" Archer exclaimed as his voice faded into the room.  
  
Hoshi and Travis watched as Phlox followed them inside and the door closed. They turned and shared a shrug and found seats in the hall to wait.  
  
----------  
  
There were no more tubes sticking in or out of Trip. His face appeared to have more color in it around the cheeks. It was amazing, Jon thought. His face, his hands looked as if nothing had happened at all. He reached out and brushed Trip's bangs back off his forehead. All Jon needed now was to look into his friend's eyes and see he knew he was safe and not alone.  
  
Phlox talked quietly at the door with C'Taan. They went over a padd with information on it. C'Taan told Phlox he would send some K'rotul root with him. It made a very powerful antibiotic when boiled and mixed with other ingredients. The other ingredients would not be difficult for the resequencer to produce, however the root was a different matter. C'Taan said they could try and he wished them luck.  
  
Luck, Phlox thought. It had been on their side for much of this journey. The doctor wondered just how long the streak would last.  
  
"Doctors," Archer called to them.  
  
They turned their attention toward the bed and saw the commander was stirring. C'Taan quickly motioned for the attendant to lower the lights and followed Phlox to the bedside.  
  
Jon stood back and let C'Taan stand next to Trip while Phlox took the other side. Trip's eyes fluttered and opened slightly, then closed again.  
  
"Captain," C'Taan whispered. "Perhaps it should be you and the Dr. Phlox he sees first."  
  
Archer slowly approached the bedside. Trip turned his head in his direction and his eyes opened wider this time.   
  
"Trip?" Archer spoke softly.  
  
"Cap'n," Trip mumbled, groggy from the sedation. He squinted up at the captain's voice.  
  
Jon looked down at Trip. He looked closely in his eyes, but there was something wrong. They weren't focused on him. They were slightly crossed and looking past him.  
  
"Let me see to him." C'Taan said, moving Archer aside. "Just lie still, Commander."  
  
"No," Trip turned his head away. "Where's the cap'n?"  
  
"I'm right here, Trip." Archer reassured the younger man.  
  
"I'm here too, Commander." Phlox placed a hand on Tucker's shoulder.  
  
"Doc?" Trip tried to focus on him. "Wh--what's goin' on? Who's that guy?"  
  
"He's a physician. Let him examine you." Phlox told him.  
  
C'Taan ran a scanner with a pale blue light over Trip's eyes. There was no indication that the commander saw it at all. He handed the scanner over to Phlox who read the results with a grave expression.  
  
Phlox shared a worried look with C'Taan. Archer looked from one to the other, the tension building inside of him.  
  
"Captain," Phlox said. "May I speak with you?"  
  
Archer followed Phlox toward the door.  
  
"I thought you said they repaired any damage done to his eyes?" Archer asked in confusion.  
  
"They did." Phlox told him.   
  
"Look, Phlox," Archer said, losing patience. "I'm no physician, but he can't see!" His voice raised considerably.  
  
Phlox took hold of the captain's arm and pulled him out into the hall. C'Taan looked down at Tucker after the two left.  
  
"When are ya gonna take off the bandages?" Trip asked, still mumbling.   
  
"Just relax, Commander." C'Taan tried to hold him off.  
  
Trip's hands came up to touch his face and he now realized his eyes were not bandaged, nor were his hands.  
  
"They're...they're off!" Trip began to breathe heavily. "No! They're off and I can't see!"  
  
He began to thrash around in the bed, as C'Taan tried to grab hold of him. Archer burst in through the door, followed by Phlox. Hoshi and Travis watched from the opened doorway.   
  
"Trip!" Jon called out as he grabbed hold of the frantic man by the shoulders firmly.  
  
"Cap'n!" Trip screamed out. "I can't see! I can't..." His voice cracked and he wrapped his arms around Jon in a tight bear hug. "Please...please tell me it's not forever!"   
  
Captain Jonathan Archer looked up at C'Taan and Phlox, knowing full well he could not tell his friend what he wanted to hear. The truth was none of them knew the answer to that, simply because it was not in any of their power to reverse. He gathered Trip up in his arms and held on tight to ride the wave of grief that was coming.  
  
"You're going to have to be strong, Trip." Jon told him feeling it was a lame response at best. "Listen to me. You're just scared and that's affecting your eyesight."  
  
Trip began to sob softly now. "What d'ya mean?"  
  
Archer looked up at C'Taan who nodded to him. He took a deep breath and went for it.  
  
"There's nothing wrong with your eyes. Physically they're fine." Jon told him.   
  
"I can't see!" Trip screamed into Jon's chest as he buried himself deeper in the embrace.  
  
"Help me here, doc." Archer looked up at Phlox.  
  
"Commander," Phlox moved closer. "There is a great deal of emotional turmoil inside of you that has caused such an impact that it's blocking visual impulses in your brain."  
  
"It's hysterical blindness, Trip." Jon told him gently.  
  
"No!" Trip began to struggle, but Jon held on tighter. "You mean...you mean I'm doin' this to myself?!"  
  
"You can't help it." Archer told him trying to rock his friend to calm him down.  
  
"No!" Trip screamed. "It's cause I'm afraid, isn't it? Afraid of...what he'll think of me!"  
  
"Shhh." Archer rocked Trip and looked up toward the door, seeing Hoshi and Travis' somber faces peering in from the doorway. "When can we take him home?"  
  
"He's able to be moved now." C'Taan told him.  
  
Archer looked at the two ensigns. "You two get back to the shuttlepod and fire it up. Hoshi, you contact T'Pol and tell her I want Trip's parents contacted and waiting for me when I get there."  
  
Both ensigns nodded and rushed off. Phlox followed C'Taan out of the room to get the K'rotul root and other medicinal items they'd need.   
  
Alone in the room, Jonathan Archer rocked Trip Tucker who coughed and cried softly. The captain's mind was racing with thoughts of the dressing down he was going to give Charles Tucker the Second when he had him in view. And God help Trip's father if he tried to deny the part he played in his son's current condition.   
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
---------- 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6-  
  
"Mr. Tucker," Jon was saying, "I don't think you were a bad father..."  
  
"No?" Charles Tucker the Second sat next to his wife in their home on Earth. "Then what exactly do you think, Jon...Captain?"  
  
"I think you were a little too hard on Trip." Jon pointedly replied.   
  
"Jonathan," Mrs. Tucker said softly, her eyes rimmed with red. "You only heard from our son's side. You haven't heard ours, yet." She dabbed her eyes with a hanky.  
  
"No, ma'am." Jon agreed. "But I know Trip and he doesn't lie."  
  
"Not lie," Trip's mom corrected. "But he does exaggerate. He always has."  
  
"Then, are you telling me that he has no cause to be so distraught over what his father's feelings toward him might be?" Jon had no intentions of backing down.  
  
"Trip was always hard on himself to a point where he created friction when there needn't have been any." Mrs. Tucker looked at her husband. "He's so much like his father that way."  
  
"I never said I was ashamed of my son, ever." Mr. Tucker stressed.   
  
"But did you ever tell him you weren't?" Jon asked.  
  
Mr. Tucker hung his head and took a deep breath. Mrs. Tucker held onto his arm tightly and sniffed back tears.  
  
"You said it was an accident." Mr. Tucker finally said. "Not his fault."  
  
"No, sir." Jon told him. "It was a freak accident. Trip deserves every bit of the chief engineer rank he carries."  
  
"I wasn't implying..." Mr. Tucker trailed off.   
  
"Is he in pain?" Mrs. Tucker asked.  
  
"Not really," Jon told her. "He's past most of that now."  
  
"But the blindness is his fault." Mr. Tucker pointed out.   
  
Jon shook his head and held in his anger. He knew this man before him was full of pride. He just wished it spilled over for his son.  
  
"The blame is divided, don't you think, sir?" Jon shot back, regretting it instantly.  
  
"May we talk to him?" Mrs. Tucker meekly asked.  
  
"I was hoping Mr. Tucker would. Really talk to him. Maybe like he should've years ago." Jon held back anymore assault on the elder Charles Tucker.  
  
"I had my reasons for the way I raised Trip, Jonathan." Mr. Tucker's face softened. "It was the only way I knew how. He needed to stand up to his fears..."  
  
"Sir," Jon interrupted. "With all due respect; I think you should be telling this to your son."   
  
----------  
  
The hum of the engine lulled him, like a mother's heartbeat to her restless baby. He was laying curled up on his side, with his knees drawn up to his chest. He was on his own bed, in his own quarters. Not alone, but he might as well have been since he saw only blackness.  
  
Trip heard Malcolm shift in the chair at the desk. He could hear the tapping of the lieutenant's fingers on the computer terminal working away dutifully on reports or whatever. Ever diligent Malcolm continued to work despite being assigned to watch after the blindman.  
  
Malcolm paused and turned to look over at Trip who's back was to him. Perhaps he had finally fallen asleep. Trip had been silent for the last half hour, since the angry outburst had ceased. When he had cursed himself with every expletive in the English language, and even a few in Klingon he'd picked up, Trip had pounded his fist into the mattress. When that didn't quell his anger, silence came and with it a few tears.  
  
The chime signaled and Malcolm opened the door to the waiting Phlox. The doctor entered and nodded toward the bed. Reed just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. Phlox walked to the bed and sat down.  
  
"You awake, Commander?" Phlox asked. There was no response and no movement, so the doctor pulled out his scanner and ran it over Tucker. "Will you lie on your back for me?"  
  
"Maybe he is asleep." Malcolm told the doctor.  
  
"He's not. Just doesn't want to be poked by me, I'm sure." Phlox said, sympathetically. "C'Taan said there would be pain and some stiffness in your hands. Is it bothersome?"  
  
"He gave the mattress a pretty sound pummeling earlier," Malcolm offered.  
  
"Really?" Phlox mused. "Well, let's have a look."  
  
The doctor reached around and took hold of Tucker's hands, bringing them up and causing him to turn over and lie on his back.  
  
Trip could feel twinges of pain in his hands as Phlox slowly flexed the palms, curling his fingers. He let out a little groan and turned his head away.  
  
"Want something for the pain?" Phlox asked.  
  
Trip silently pulled away and tried to turn over on his side, but Phlox took hold of his hands again.  
  
"No you don't," Phlox told him. He continued to slowly massage Trip's hands and fingers, watching the man's face for any reaction. There was an occasional deep breath that sounded more like annoyance rather than discomfort. But other than that, nothing.  
  
The door slid open and Archer stepped inside. Reed nodded reverently to the captain, who returned the gesture.   
  
Phlox looked up and gently placed Trip's hands on his chest and got up to let the captain move in.  
  
"Trip," Jon said, reaching the bed and leaning down. "Your parents want to talk to you."  
  
There was no response or movement from Trip. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. Archer shared a concerned look with the doctor and Reed.  
  
"Come on," Jon said, taking hold of Trip's shoulders and lifting him up into a sitting position.  
  
Trip didn't bother to resist and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He knew the confrontation with his father was inevitable given the circumstances. He felt Jon sit down beside him.  
  
"Malcolm," Jon looked towards the bathroom. "Would you get me a comb or brush? Wet it a little, too?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Malcolm said, as he moved off.   
  
"Captain," Phlox quietly spoke up. "Would you like me to stay?"  
  
"Naw," Archer replied. "I think we'll be okay. Thanks."  
  
Phlox exited the room leaving Trip and Archer sitting on the bed. Malcolm came out of the bathroom with the comb and handed it to the captain.  
  
"Great," Jon said, touching the comb to Trip's hair.   
  
Trip flinched at the light pressure on top of his head. It continued, gentle strokes combing down his hair. He had to admit to himself that it felt good, comforting.  
  
"There." Jon marveled.  
  
"I'll be getting back to the bridge, sir." Reed said, turning to leave.  
  
"I'm sorry," Trip's strained voice said.  
  
Both Archer and Reed were stunned at the sound. They both looked over at their friend.  
  
"Trip?" Jon prompted.  
  
"Earlier," Trip told Malcolm. "Sorry ya had to see it."  
  
Archer looked puzzled, but let Reed take it from there.  
  
"No apology necessary," Malcolm assured Trip. "If I were in your place I'd have probably broken everything in this room that wasn't bolted down. I'll come by later."  
  
After Malcolm left, Jon started to get up but was stopped by Trip's hand on his arm.  
  
"Not yet," Trip said, obviously becoming emotional.   
  
"It'll be okay, Trip." Jon promised his friend. "I've already told them about your...accident."  
  
Trip sighed and leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. "I can't."  
  
"Yes you can," Jon encouraged. "You know as well as I do that you're as tough as they come. There isn't any danger you wouldn't face down if this ship or any one of us were in jeopardy."  
  
"But I can't face my own father." Trip said, fighting back the lump that enflamed the back of his throat.  
  
"Trip," Jon tried now. "I think you just better hear him out. You may be surprised."  
  
Archer got up and went to the comm. "Hoshi, put the Tuckers' through to Trip's quarters."  
  
"Aye, sir." Hoshi's voice said.  
  
Jon helped Trip up and guided him over to sit down in the chair at his desk. Trip's hands were trembling and Jon placed his own hand on his best friend's shoulder for moral support. The screen changed and the Tuckers' appeared on the screen.  
  
"Hello, son." Mr. Tucker spoke up.  
  
Trip's body tensed, but Jon squeezed his grip on his shoulder. Trip took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.  
  
"Hi, Daddy."  
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
---------- 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7-  
  
"How're you feeling, honey?" Trip's mom asked, wiping her eyes but not letting her voice waver.  
  
"Fine, Momma." Trip answered softly.  
  
"You look really good," she beamed proudly although he couldn't see her. When he turned away she said, "Really."  
  
"Son," His father began. "I asked Jonathan to be here. I hope it's okay."  
  
"Yes, sir." Trip nodded, feeling Jon lightly close his grip again.  
  
"The doctors tell me your loss of sight isn't necessarily permanent." Trip's father went on. "I guess that's if the underlyin' cause is dealt with. But even then it's not known if it'll return."  
  
"I don't know what the cap'n told you, sir, but..." Trip started to fidget.  
  
"Let me finish my say," Mr. Tucker said with parental authority. "I brought you up the best way I knew how. There's no instruction manual that comes with a baby when they're born. My father, your Grampa Tucker, raised me a helluva lot tougher than you think I did you. But if there's one thing I'm grateful for, it's that he made me able to stand up and take on what life threw at me. I thought I was doin' the same for you." His voice started to crack, quiver slightly.   
  
Trip closed his eyes and bit down on his lower lip. He clasped his hands over his knees, trying to keep them from shaking. For the first time in his life his father was actually talking to him. Not at him, but to him.  
  
"But you're different than me." Mr. Tucker turned and looked at his wife. "Oh, your momma will say that we're a lot alike and she's right to a point. But you needed more from me than I knew how to give."  
  
"Daddy, don't..." Trip's low voice said, shaking his head and looking downward.   
  
"Jesus, son," his dad sighed. "Did I ever miss an awards ceremony at school? Or a parent-teacher conference?"  
  
"No, sir." Trip said, his voice strained.   
  
"Did I miss any one of your graduations?"   
  
"No, sir." Trip answered, sniffing back the tears.  
  
Jon watched Trip closely and then looked back up at the screen. He saw now that Charles Tucker the Second was wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Trip's mom was on her fourth tissue at least and still clinging to her husband's arm.   
  
"Now here comes the hard one, son. And I want you to be honest with me." Mr. Tucker told his son. "Will you do that?"  
  
Trip only nodded slowly, looking up even though he couldn't see a thing.  
  
"Did I ever tell you how proud I've always been of you?" His dad's voice trembled with emotion.  
  
Trip broke out into sobs now, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands. Jon slid his hand down Trip's back and slowly rubbed it.  
  
"I'm waitin', son." Mr. Tucker managed to gather his strength and steady his voice.  
  
Jon knelt down placing his other hand on Trip's arm, speaking in a hushed voice. "Remember. You can do it."  
  
Trip sniffed and looked up, his face red and tear streaked. He shook his head slowly.  
  
"No, sir." Trip forced out.  
  
"And you never really knew that? Without my tellin' you?" His dad asked, disbelieving.  
  
"How?!" Trip raised his voice. "How would I? Yeah, ya went to all those ceremonies. But ya never said anythin'. You were just there. I didn't know if it was cuz Momma dragged ya or what."  
  
Jon had risen and grabbed a hanky from a drawer and placed it in Trip's hands.   
  
"I wanted so much more for you, Trip." His dad said. "I had to struggle for everythin' I ever wanted in life. I didn't want you to have to do that. But money was tight and I hated that you had to work so hard to get through school and get your degree. And...although I was proud of you, I was angry with myself for not bein' able to provide for your schoolin' better."  
  
"No, no..." Trip shook his head. "Daddy, that's the one thing I'm most grateful for. That I didn't have it handed to me. That it wasn't easy to get. It made it all the sweeter. That I did it on my own."  
  
"I am proud of you, Trip." His dad reinforced. "I always have been. I just thought I was helpin' you by toughenin' you up. I guess I forgot that when you were just a little boy, that little boys need more from their daddys. Like..."  
  
Jon was standing behind Trip now, and had a feeling that what was to come was going to be even more personal. So, he turned away with his back to the monitor.  
  
"Even more important than tellin' you I was proud of you," his dad went on. "I can't ever remember tellin' you that I loved you."  
  
Trip began to cry again. "Daddy..."  
  
"I love ya, son." His dad let a cry at the back of his throat out, but quickly covered it with a cough.  
  
"I love ya, too, Daddy."  
  
"I guess we really never realize how much that we don't say to our children is just as important as what we do say." His dad deduced. "Jonathan."   
  
"Yes, sir." Jon turned around and placed his hands on the back of Trip's chair.  
  
"Would you do me a very big favor?" Charles Tucker the Second lifted his chin with the utmost pride. "Would you please give my son the hug I should've a very long time ago?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Jon replied.  
  
"Honey," Mrs. Tucker said, "You do what the doctor tells you and don't worry. We'll be waiting for you when you get back home."  
  
Trip was still sobbing, but looked up. "I love ya, Momma."  
  
"I love you too, baby."   
  
"I'll contact you as soon as we know the particulars, Mr. and Mrs. Tucker." Jon told them. The screen displayed "end transmission" and Jon hung his head.  
  
Trip wiped his eyes and blew his nose on the hanky. Jon put his hands on Trip's shoulders and massaged them a little before moving around to the front. Trip, still feeling Jon's hands on his shoulders pulled himself up from the chair.   
  
"I promised him." Jon said, as he wrapped his arms around Trip. The younger man's tense body relaxed into the embrace and returned it with all the strength he could muster after his physical and emotional ordeal.   
  
"When do I have to go back?" Trip mumbled, his head buried in Jon's shoulder.  
  
"Let's take it one step at a time, Trip." Jon told him. "Right now, just think about what your dad said. And let me worry about all the rest."  
  
It was easier said than done, Trip thought. But whatever happened to him couldn't be any worse than what he'd already been through. He'd miss Enterprise, the people and the mission. But if he couldn't see it all, he didn't want to be here. And it was good to know he could go home again.  
  
Jon guided him over to his bed and he stretched out, feeling tired and worn. He felt the blankets covering him and Jon tucking them in and under his chin.  
  
"I'll stay until you fall asleep, if you want." Jon told him.  
  
"I'm okay now, Cap'n." Trip told him, sleepily.  
  
"All right." Jon walked to the door, but before pushing the button he turned back. "Malcolm's off in an hour. I'll send him by."  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks." Trip told his captain. "I know I'm not alone, sir. All I have to do is buzz, right?"  
  
Jon smiled thoughtfully. Trip was tough as nails, just as he'd always said. But somehow he seemed more grounded. "That's right. Sleep well, my friend."  
  
"Thanks...for everything." Trip said. "And...well, you know there's a lot of things we all take for granted sometimes. What we think people close to us should know, even though we've never said it. Ya know what I mean?"  
  
"Yeah, I know." Jon agreed, knowing full well what Trip meant. "Back at ya. Now get some sleep."  
  
As the door closed behind him, Jonathan Archer stood in the corridor outside Trip's quarters. He looked up and down the hall. He had so much to do still. And the one task he was dreading the most, was contacting Admiral Forrest and informing him of Trip's accident and current condition. That was something he couldn't put off any longer. He moved to the comm panel on the wall and pushed the button.  
  
"Archer to the bridge."  
  
"Bridge, Captain." T'Pol's voice came through.  
  
"Have Hoshi contact Admiral Forrest. I'll take it in my quarters."   
  
TO BE CONTINUED  
  
---------- 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you all for the reviews. You're all very kind. Trip is years away from the technology of the VISOR that enabled Geordi LaForge to do his job. So, we'll find out if our Trip has healed enough inside to will himself back to normal!  
  
Chapter 8-  
  
He sighed, leaning against the sink in frustration rather than exhaustion. Upon waking up Trip had made his way, with success, to the bathroom and was able to take care of matters there without incident. Well, it hadn't been easy, but he did it. Now he felt around for the faucet and turned the water on, placing his hands underneath the stream. He bent down and began to wash his face.  
  
His mind had been trying to sort out what his life was going to be like now. Without his sight, he couldn't remain on Enterprise and do his job. Who ever heard of a blind chief engineer? But he had gained so much from this. His father and he had finally talked, really talked to him. Jon had made that possible, Trip was sure of that.  
  
Jon. They had been friends for almost nine years and had shared the best times, both on and off work, that Trip had ever had. He felt closer to Jon than his own brother, which had been a source of guilt in the past. But not anymore. He and Jon had been through more together than Trip and his brother had. It was all good now.  
  
After drying his face and hands, Trip felt his way out into the living area. He stood there for a minute, debating with himself whether he should call anyone. Finally he made his way to the door, found the controls and pushed the button that opened his door.  
  
----------   
  
T'Pol stood across from Captain Archer's desk in his ready room. She studied his face closely, the stress apparent by the pronounced wrinkles in his forehead.   
  
"Have Travis set a course to rendezvous with the Vulcan science ship. We should meet up with them in three days at warp two." The captain muttered. "I'll go tell Trip."  
  
"Sir," T'Pol spoke up. "It is the logical course to take. The science ship is heading that way. They will be able to deliver Commander Tucker back to Earth and this mission can continue without interruption."  
  
Archer looked up at the sub-commander. Deep down inside he knew she was trying, in her own way, to ease his guilt about not taking Trip home himself. But his emotions were so on the surface and exposed, he had trouble keeping silent.  
  
"He's not a piece of cargo, T'Pol." Archer barked. "He's the chief engineer of this ship, an injured Starfleet officer and my best friend."  
  
"I was not implying any less, sir." T'Pol defended herself. "He will be all right. He is quite adaptable, as you well know."  
  
Archer let out a tired grunt. "And how. I'm sorry. I've been put through the ringer here and I'm a little tired."  
  
"Understood." T'Pol nodded. "I will return to the bridge and inform Ensign Mayweather..."  
  
"Engineering to Captain Archer." A female voice sputtered across the comm.  
  
"Archer here."  
  
"Sir," Lieutenant Hess' voice sounded excited. "I just thought you should know. Commander Tucker is here. Alone."  
  
Archer jumped to his feet. "Doing what?"  
  
"At the moment, he's feeling his way toward his station." She whispered something to someone near her. "What should we do, sir?"  
  
"Nothing. I'll be right there." Archer rushed past T'Pol, who followed him out the door.  
  
----------  
  
"Lieutenant Reed," Archer called out as he exited his ready room and headed for the lift.   
  
Malcolm Reed looked up and saw the captain motion for him to follow him. He immediately rose and hurried to catch up.  
  
Inside the turbolift, Archer turned toward Reed.  
  
"Trip's gone exploring. He's in engineering."   
  
"What? Alone?" Reed asked.  
  
"Yes." The captain shook his head. "He's going to be hard to keep down for the next few days."  
  
"Few days, sir?" Malcolm asked.  
  
"We're meeting up with a Vulcan science ship that's going to take him back to Earth." Archer said, not looking at the armory officer.  
  
"Oh," Malcolm hung his head. "I see. Does he know?"  
  
"He knows it's inevitable, but not the specifics." Archer told him. "I just thought it might be better if we were both there."  
  
The lift came to a halt and both men exited, walking briskly toward engineering.  
  
----------  
  
Trip felt the cool metal of the handrail in his left hand. He swung himself around and his right hand now gripped the other handrail. He had to go up there one more time, just to feel the power of towering over the room even if he couldn't see it. Slowly, he put his right foot up on the first rung and brought his left foot up and over onto the rung above it. He took a deep breath and decided he should just go for it.  
  
Archer and Reed entered and stopped short behind Lieutenant Hess and Crewman Morris. The two men followed the gaze of Hess and Morris and looked up to see Trip ascending the ladder to the second level.  
  
"Oh, no." Archer breathed out. "What in the world is he doing?"  
  
"He's done it a thousand times, Captain." Malcolm tried to ease the captain's nervousness as well as his own. "Maybe he'll be all right."  
  
"Malcolm," Archer insisted. "He's done it before with sight. He's blind for God sake."  
  
"Well, what do you want to do, sir?" Malcolm's nerves were showing. "Call out and startle the hell out of him?"  
  
Trip knew he was almost to the top. He'd counted those rungs before and knew he had only three more to go. As his right foot was rising to meet the next rung, his left hand suddenly cramped up sending an excruciating pain through his hand. He lifted his left hand off the railing and instinctively let go with his right hand to grip his left wrist. That was it. He totally lost all sense of balance without his eyesight and started to leaned backwards. He pitched forward trying to right himself, but he couldn't. He felt himself freefall backwards and heard the gasps of the crew and the distinct voice of Captain Jonathan Archer calling out his name before all was silent.  
  
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Jon watched as Trip leaned back and fell all the way down and heard the clanking thud as his head hit the deck plating. Hess ran for the comm and called Phlox, while the captain and Lieutenant Reed rushed to Commander Tucker's side. Trip was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed and still as could be.  
  
"Don't touch him!" Archer called out to Malcolm. He leaned down and put his cheek a few inches from Trip's nose. "He's breathing. What the hell was he trying to prove?"  
  
"Perhaps he just wanted to see...I mean, be here in engineering again." Reed offered. "It's where he's most comfortable, sir. And hearing the engines might make up for what he can't see."  
  
Phlox entered and Reed rose to let the doctor by Trip's side. He scanned the commander.  
  
"No broken bones. He's got a concussion and will likely have a very nasty lump protruding from the back of his head." Phlox told them. "But I think he's all right. I need to get him to sickbay for a thorough check up, though."  
  
Trip started to stir, moaning slightly. He opened his eyes in the direction of the doctor.  
  
"Trip?" Archer said, leaning in. "Can you hear me?"  
  
Trip swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly. When he opened them again he was still fixed on the doctor.  
  
"I hear ya, Cap'n." Trip answered.   
  
"How's your head?" Phlox asked.  
  
"Hurts like hell." Trip answered. "Doc? Did I ever tell ya that you're a damn good lookin' guy, for an alien?"  
  
Phlox raised his brow as he looked into Tucker's face, in particular his eyes, and realized they were focused. Focused directly on him.   
  
"Trip!" Archer exclaimed. "What're you saying?"  
  
Trip turned his head and looked at Jon now. "Damn, you're not too shabby lookin' yourself, Cap'n."  
  
As they all understood the implications, there was a round of applause and cheers from the engineering crew. Archer helped Trip up slowly and with Phlox supporting him on the other side they got Trip to his feet. He looked at Malcolm now and smiled.  
  
"Good to see ya again, Mr. Reed." Trip said.  
  
"Thank you, sir." Reed nodded, moving aside to let the group through.  
  
"Mr. Reed," Archer called back to Malcolm. "Would you please tell Sub-commander T'Pol to retract that course change she gave Ensign Mayweather a few minutes ago? And tell her to resume our previous heading."  
  
"Aye, sir." Reed said with a relieved sigh.  
  
"Where were we goin'?" Trip asked as they moved along the corridor.  
  
"No where important now," Archer told him. "So where did you think you were going? Huh? That was a dangerous stunt you pulled, Commander."  
  
"I know and I'm sorry, sir." Trip apologized. "I just didn't like bein' so isolated."  
  
"Well," Archer put on his best command face and voice. "If you ever pull something that stupid again, you'll be isolated until further notice. You got that?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Trip replied, feeling rather foolish knowing he had scared Jon that badly. But as the captain continued to scold him for what he'd done, Trip felt lucky to be able to be in that position again. To not only have Jonathan Archer, his best friend's caring and concern. But that of Jonathan Archer, his captain and commanding officer. He was one lucky guy and there wasn't any doubt in his mind that he was loved and cherished by his dad now, thanks to this man that bawled him out relentlously all the way to sickbay.  
  
THE END 


End file.
